


Nosy Neighbors and How to Get Rid of Them

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Idiots in Love, Only One Bed, Post-Canon Fix-It, Power Converters Shopping, Sharing a Bed, Virgin Ben Solo, Virgin Rey (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22925962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ben Solo lives! After the Battle on Exegol, he and Rey decide to hide together on Tatooine, living rent free in Luke’s old moisture farm. Too bad their neighbor is a nosy old lady, hell-bent on discovering more about the suspicious couple currently squatting in the late Lars’ house.Or, Rey finally finished what Luke started: getting those damn power converters from Tosche Station.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 35
Kudos: 82
Collections: Anonymous, Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts), TROS Reylo Fix-it Fics





	1. Rey who?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by @reylo_prompts on Twitter: "Fix-it fic: after Exogol, Ben decides to hide with Rey on Tatooine, but while they're trying to lose their virginity that nosy old lady keeps interrupting and spying on them. Bonus if Rey tells her she's a Skywalker out of panic. Happy ending please" and “I will finish what Luke started. I’m gonna finally get those fucking power converters.”

Ben glued his long, long nose to the small window of Uncle Luke’s childhood house. Tatooine was–as expected–literally deserted, not a soul in sight for miles, and he was alone, waiting for Rey to come back from Tosche Station, a cup of musty decades-old stale caf his only companion. He’d promised her to never leave the house, since his face was sadly known after his Supreme Leader shenanigans, but the wait was almost killing him: being without Rey was actually worse than dying now–and he’d been almost dead three different times only in the last twenty-four hours. He knew what he was talking about, thank you very much.

He bit his cuticle for the upteenth time, tearing the skin with his teeth and soothing the small, bleeding wound right away with his tongue. His whole body was itching–he was positively dirty, and smelly as well, and he would have happily taken a shower, if only they had water. Choosing to hide in the dilapidated moisture farm hadn’t been the best idea for personal hygiene–but he didn’t know where else to go.  There was no water on the whole planet and the rusty pump his relatives used to grow their crops needed a new power converter, or several. Apparently Rey knew what to do, and she’d quickly departed on foot–they couldn’t risk using his old TIE, now hidden in a nearby cave–for one of the nearest repair shops, hoping to find some good bargains.

Besides promising her that he’d wait for her inside, he’d also promised not to break anything, and here he was, biting his own fingers out of boredom and nervousness, his blood pressure making him almost dizzy. He was too tense to sleep, or meditate, or simply wait for her to come back without worrying. He didn’t want to leave her side ever again after what had happened during the last day.  He wanted to touch her again, and hug her tight, and kiss her so many times that they would both need to remember to breathe, even if it was scaring him.

Their whole life had changed after Exegol. Their bodies had been mauled by their enemies and by the Dark Side of the Force, they’d both seen death–touched it, even–but the most important thing was that Rey had kissed him. She’d kissed him for real, and it had been unwavering and marvelous, her own hunger impossible to tame, her fingers touching his dirty face reverently as her lips brushed against his own mouth. That kiss made his whole world rotate on its axis, his poor heart plummeting as his body almost flickered outside of existence. Almost.

Ben had blacked out, but when he’d come to his senses again, Rey was still there with him, and she was healing him with her fingers splayed over his chest and an almost frightening determination in her eyes. He covered her hand with his own then, squeezing her palm, and she smiled at him tenderly. It took his breath away. 

The eerie feeling of bone, tendons and muscles knitting together almost made him grimace, but Rey chased the pain away with another kiss, her tongue tentatively wetting his lower lip, seeking permission to enter. Rey was going to kill him for real, and Ben was ready to welcome death this time. He opened his mouth without a second thought, letting her in.

Ben removed his face from the small window–again, nobody coming over the horizon–and descended the stairs, determined to tidy the house a bit, and hoping that his growing erection would wane–he was too tired even to jerk himself off. He’d already explored the underground rooms with Rey, and they had decided to try to restore the water pump before cleaning and make the whole house inhabitable again. There was no reason to waste their time if they couldn’t have running water or electricity: they would simply have to look for another place to hide. 

But he was bored, and twitchy, and his caf was now cold. His mind kept turning to Rey, and to the thought of how she’d hugged him tightly, and kissed him again after the battle, after the sky had calmed down–no more explosions between the stars–and to how she’d started crying because she couldn’t bring him to the Resistance, since everyone had seen his face by now.

He’d blurted out the first thing that popped up in his mind. “Let’s hide on Tatooine. The house where Luke used to live is still there.”

“Then I will return briefly to Ajan Kloss, I’ll tell everyone that I’m okay, and I need to go look for some Jedi shit. I’ll ask Chewie a lift, and I’ll join you there,” Rey had said, smiling through the tears.

Watching her leave in that rusty X-Wing had been enough to rip his heart in half–again.

The lower floor was a mess, there was sand everywhere. Beh huffed, carding his fingers through his dirty hair. His cock was long dead, and after throwing his caf in the toilet and picking up a broom from a closet, he began sweeping the pavement of Luke’s old room. He’d made many useless things in his life, and many wrong choices; wasting a couple of hours while waiting for Rey wouldn’t surely be the end of the Galaxy.

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

“You don’t need this speeder anymore,” Rey said, her fingers dancing in front of the stranger’s face.

“I don’t need this speeder anymore,” he droned. “Hey, could you please get rid of it for me?”

“With pleasure,” she smiled, stealing the poor man’s vehicle under his nose.

Rey secured her luggage and her grocery bags to the dedicated compartment, checked the lightsabers she carried with her–she’d hidden them in a fabric bundle–and started the engine, waving back at all the people she’d tricked during her short visit at the Station. It was time to go back to Ben: after experiencing her heart shattering into a thousand pieces on Exegol, she didn’t want to spend more time than strictly necessary far from him. 

Despite having been with him only a few hours ago, she missed him like Tatooine dwellers miss fresh water. She wanted to touch him, to bask in the warmth of his very much alive body; she wanted to kiss his soft lips and enjoy the flush of his high cheekbones, she wanted–no, she needed–to wake up every day at his side, making sure he was alive, and healthy, and hers. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford to risk showing his face around, so she’d offered to do all the chores that required going outside and interacting with people–he could take care of the house for all she cared. If they succeeded in repairing Luke’s old water pump, they would keep hiding on Tatooine for a few months until the dust surrounding the final battle. In the meantime, they would have to survive on theft and mind tricks.

Speederjecking was only the latest in a very long series of crimes Rey had perpetrated once she reached Tosche Station: first, she’d stolen food for herself since she was starving–nothing serious, just some ahrisa buns from a street vendor, whom she’d paid right before leaving–and then, on top of that, she’d filled the old rucksack Ben had found in a closet with edible goods from another vendor, but only after she’d seen him hit a child for daring to ask for a strip of desiccated worrt meat for free. She’d gifted the same child meat and black melon juice before going to loot another stall.

Next thing, she’d stolen several water filters and a whole box of power converters from a junk dealer, in case they needed a few extras back at the house. The man had made lewd comments about her ass after she’d walked past his stall, and she had proven to him she had no qualms robbing criminals and disgusting people alike.

After that, she’d entered a tavern, lured two bounty hunters that looked at her the wrong way in the toilet and proceeded to steal all their credits, leaving them wandering disoriented around the place. The fact was, Ben and she had no cash with them, and she’d felt too guilty to take Resistance credits for her “mystical trip”: they both came from situations where their community would provide for any of their needs, but it didn’t work like that on the seediest planets of the Outer Rim, and on Tatooine credits could make the difference between life and death.

The rusty moisture vaporators surrounding Luke’s house appeared on the horizon, and Rey slowed her speeder down, ready to dock it in the semi-collapsed depression that once was the main courtyard of the farm. She smiled at the thought of what had happened a few hours ago: after they’d partially dismantled a vaporator to see if they needed to replace any pieces, she’d used the external shell to slide down the slope, ending feet in the air in the middle of the courtyard, under the gaze of a bewildered Ben. He ran after her then, uncaring about all the sand he was lifting with his huge feet, and they’d kissed on the ground, laughing and marveling at how being alive and free could so quickly become addicting.

Rey was still smiling as she climbed up the depression, her bags heavy on her back, when a shrill voice scared her so much that her foot slipped, and the bundle where she was hiding the lightsabers fell down, opening. She looked around, cursing R'iia under her breath: there was someone approaching, with a strange, huge animal she’d never seen before, and they were calling for her.

“Hey, you! Down there!”

“Kriff!” Rey seethed, willing the Force to open up the ground, and bundling the lightsabers together again. She pushed them down the hole, just in time for the stranger to approach, the stench of the leashed animal announcing their presence.

“Hey!” they shouted again. 

Rey got on her feet, stepping over the spot where she’d buried the sabers. The stranger stopped in front of her, and their animal seized the moment to take a good dump, belling soporifically in her direction. Rey looked up, and she found an old lady in front of her, a shock of white hair escaping the rags wrapped around her head.

“Who are you?” she asked Rey.

Her tone was inquisitive, but not in a good way. Rey tried to think of something to say, but she just blurted out “I’m Rey,” cringing inside and almost willing the ground to swallow her up whole like it had done with the sabers.

The old lady looked at her like she would like Rey had looked at the dung the animal had expelled a moment before. “Rey who?”

Rey grimaced, hoping that the Force Bond she shared with Ben would open, and he could somehow step in and save her from this embarrassment. But nothing happened: she was on her own. She thought briefly about using a mind trick on the lady, but the woman wasn’t a criminal like the people she’d robbed at Tosche Station, and she blabbed the first thing that came to her mind.

“Rey… Skywalker?”

“That name sounds familiar!” the old lady answered. “But I can’t remember where I have heard it. What are you doing here?”

Sweat began to pearl Rey’s forehead. “I… live here? That’s my house,” she mewled, her trembling finger pointing at Luke’s old farm. “My relative’s house.”

“I’ve haven’t seen anyone in that house for thirty years at least,” the lady tutted. “I can’t remember if the people living there were Skywalkers… They seemed nice, until they got roasted by the Empire’s troopers. You see, their son was a junkie.”

“I’m sorry?” Rey asked.  _ Luke was a what? _

“That blonde guy, Lucas Something. He got into trouble. Always dawdling around Tosche Station with his friends. Then one day he decided to look for that old hermit, Ben Kenobi, to buy cheap drugs I say, and the Empire punished those good souls that took him in, instead of arresting him. He escaped.”

“I need to go now,” Rey smiled, sweating profusely. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Are you here alone?” the nosy lady asked again. “A young, proper woman like you, you must have found a good husband already.”

“I left the stove on,” Rey cried, waving. “See you around!”

She ran like her life depended on it, and she almost fell down the stairs, after having bolted the door.

“Ben!” she cried. “Ben!”

He emerged from a room, wearing a dusty apron and brandishing a broom like it was his old saber. “You’re here!” he exclaimed, launching the broom and running towards her.

They met in the middle of the hallway, and he lifted her in his arms like she weighed nothing, squeezing her tightly against his pectorals. She sighed.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” he asked, a frown etched on his brow. “You look distressed.”

“There was someone outside, an old lady, and she kept asking questions, and she said Luke was a junkie!” she blurted, breathless. “It looks like she’s our neighbor!”

“Hey, there is no need to worry,” he said, caressing her neck. “The nearest farm is still several clicks away, who cares if there’s someone there.”

Rey squeezed his shoulders in her hands, looking at him dead in the eyes. “I might have said something I shouldn’t have.”

“Such as?” he prompted.

“I might have said that my name is Rey Skywalker.”

A grimace distorted Ben’s features, like he’d just swallowed a whole hubba gourd, and Rey cringed so hard that she had to lower her gaze in shame.

“We’ll find a solution,” he stated calmly. “If nothing works, I’ll find a way to get rid of her.”

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

“Harold!” the old lady shouted, upon entering her small, underground house. 

Her husband jumped in fright: he was drinking his umpteenth shot of Corellian whiskey of the day, and tried to hide the amber liquid in a tall glass of blue milk.

“Patty,” he greeted her, hiding the durasteel flask in his trousers. “Why are you shouting, this time?”

“You still have a good memory. Do you remember our old neighbor’s surname? It wasn’t Skywalker, right?”

“Which ones? The ones burned to a crisp or the ones that got sold to the Hutts?”

“The burned ones.”

“They were the Lars. Owen and Beru, if I recall correctly.”

Patty punched the table. “I knew it! Harold, there is someone squatting in their farm. We need to do something! I don’t feel safe in this neighborhood anymore.”

“And what are you going to do,” he asked, sipping his spiked milk. “You can’t call the Empire anymore.”

An eerie light shined in Patty’s eyes. “No, but I can call the First Order.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	2. Chase the Cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously, on Nosy Neighbors:
> 
> Rey and Ben are slowly making Uncle Owen's farm habitable again, after decades of sandstorms. Rey finally finishes what Luke started, retrieving some power converters from Tosche Station.  
> After a long day, it's time to sleep. But apparently, there is only one bed.

Ben looked in amazement at the rusty water spluttering out of the faucet which had, until that point, seemed completely dead. Rey had managed to successfully repair the pump with the few tools at her disposal, in only a couple of hours. She was a professional. A good percentage of vaporators was now operative as well, so they could draw both from the atmosphere and the groundwater. This meant that he and Rey weren’t going to have to relocate anytime soon, and they could finally stop, take a deep breath, and think about nothing for a few months at least.

Maybe sleep for a week straight. And maybe, after that... his ears became pink, and he had to adjust the crotch of his pants, suddenly too tight for his boisterous enthusiasm. But it was too soon to… do it, he concluded. They’d touched hands, and kissed, and hugged, but sharing a bed was another matter altogether, even if there was nothing he desired more: Ben chastised himself, not wanting to push Rey outside of her comfort zone. He would sleep in Luke’s old room tonight.

“Don’t waste that water!” Rey exclaimed from the bathroom. “I’ve just changed the filter of the recycler, we’ll use that to do laundry later.”

He nodded, inserting a bucket in the sink. The house was mercifully sand-free now, thanks to his efforts while he was waiting for Rey to come back: he’d swept the whole kitchen, the bathroom, all the floors and every single piece of sparse furniture. They knew the house was well equipped with textiles stashed in various crates, but everything needed a good wash before it could be used. Luckily, the building hadn’t been raided by the Tuskens, and the old washing machine was still in working order, as well as several kitchen appliances–caf machine included.

It took a while for the water to finally come out clean from the faucet. Rey joined him quickly to retrieve the buckets he’d filled, and he helped her pour the reddish liquid in the water recycler.

“So, laundry and then shower?” Ben asked, his eyes already closing at the idea of laying in a clean bed.

“Please,” she whined. “That sounds excellent. I’m tired of scratching myself.”

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

The water still smelled of iron, but Rey couldn’t have cared less. It was mostly clear and fresh, fresher than what she had on Jakku anyway, and more than enough to eliminate all the grit and the sweat she’d accumulated after Exegol, and while tidying up the abandoned farm. Ben had already taken his shower as she waited for the twin suns to dry their laundry, and now he was preparing their bed with clean sheets. The idea that they would finally share a bed made her heartbeat speed up, and she clenched her thighs in anticipation, even if she was frankly too tired to do anything besides sleeping in his arms, possibly for many, many hours.

Rey was more than ready, but she also wanted to be well rested for their first time. She wanted it to be special, and memorable, and theirs. Her brain was telling her that sex could definitely wait, they had all the time in the Galaxy now, but her body was telling her to climb on her partner like it was a tree. Turning the water off, she toweled off her hair, changed into the clean, baggy pajamas–Luke’s?–she’d washed earlier and brewed a fresh cup of caf before going to bed. Yawning, she walked toward the master bedroom, expecting to find an already asleep Ben there, and she almost dropped her cup when she found the bed empty. He wasn’t there. Her old, irrational fear of being abandoned slowly filled her bones with dread.

“Ben?” she squeaked. “Where are you?”

Silence. She carded a hand through her damp hair, her fingers trembling around her cup of caf. Her blood pressure dropped down, and she sat on the edge of the empty bed.

“I’m here,” Ben finally called, from Luke’s room.

Rey cursed. She traversed the short hallway, and she soon found Ben, lying down in Luke’s sad, single bed, his long, long feet hanging out of the mattress. She opened her mouth a couple of times, but nothing came out. Why was he there? Why was he behaving like that?

“What are you doing there?” she finally asked.

“I’m sleeping”, he answered, like avoiding her presence was the most normal thing in the Galaxy. “At least, I’m trying to.”

Rey closed her eyes, the burning prickle of tears too quick to hide.

“Rey,” he murmured, getting on his feet, taking her hand in his. “Talk to me.”

She began crying silently, and, forgetting his intention to sleep, he wrapped his arms around her, mindful of her steaming cup.

“I thought that you wanted me,” she whined between hiccups, her caf sloshing around.

He kissed her forehead. “You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered. “That’s why it is better if we sleep in separate rooms.”

“Don’t touch me then,” Rey began fussing, swatting his arms away from her, freeing herself from his embrace. “I don’t want you to touch me if you can’t even share a bed with me. All or nothing, Ben Solo.”

Ben exhaled, his shoulders slumping in defeat. That looked good on him. “Rey, I didn’t mean to offend you, believe me,” he pleaded. “I just don’t want you to feel obliged to do something you might regret later.”

“Such as?” she spat. “Having sex with you?”

Ben blushed, and nodded. He was one of the cutest things Rey had seen in her life, and she dried her tears with her sleeve, sniffling.

“There is nothing I want more than that,” she confessed, shrugging. “But it’s not going to happen tonight for sure. I’m so tired that my eyes are burning, I need to sleep first. Then I want to kiss you again until you get tired of me.”

“I won’t,” he babbled, his ears almost purple by now. “Get tired of you, I mean. But I don’t want to rush things, either.”

“If there was only one bed, would you share it with me?” she asked, her gaze burning.

“But there are two beds in this house,” he whined, unconvincing even to his own ears.

“There _were_ two beds, you mean,” she droned flatly, emptying her caf on the clean sheets, the hot, dark beverage soaking the mattress in a matter of seconds.

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

Rey smiled wickedly at Ben. He was petrified–and a bit aroused, to be honest, plush mouth hanging open: she’d just filled Luke’s old bed with steaming hot caf, ruining the sheets they’d just washed and probably the mattress as well. He knew how Rey treated objects, how she was always careful to never let anything go to waste, and yet, she’d just destroyed a whole bed only to force him to spend the night with her.

Rey abandoned the empty cup on the bedside table and took him by the lapels of his too-short pajamas, crushing her mouth to his, graceless, like she wanted do devour him whole. It was the first kiss they shared since having docked on Tatooine: she tasted of cheap but freshly grounded caf, a faint hint of iron, and something that was simply _Rey._ Feeling bold, Ben licked her lower lip, seeking entrance, and she answered with a loud moan that almost made his knees buckle. She ended the kiss with a loud pop, her luminous eyes seeking his own in the dimly lit room.

“Mister Solo, we’ll have sex on my terms and my terms only, if the thought of making the first move disturbs you so much,” she whispered against his mouth.

He nodded, losing himself in her regular, perfect features. “I’m yours, you know that, yes?”

They stumbled in the master bedroom. The room was dark, the bed cozy, and they embraced between the crispy sheets, arms and legs entwined. Rey rested her cheek in the crook of his neck, and soon her breathing calmed, becoming regular and slow. Ben had to force himself to not cry: this is what he’d been dreaming of for the past year, and it was finally a reality.

“Thank you,” he whispered in the dark, caressing her face.

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

Something was tickling Ben’s feet. He awoke with a start, finding himself in an unfamiliar bed–too soft–surrounded by unfamiliar smells–hot suns on sand–, a natural, warm light filtering from the upper part of the walls. Was he underground? Something squished the sole of his right foot, making him moan, and making him realize that his cock was more awake than him.

A clear, crystalline laugh finally convinced him to open his eyes. _Rey._ There she was, smiling; she held his foot in her lap, and caressed it sweetly.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, trying to divert her gaze from his crotch. “What are you doing?”

“I was… observing,” she answered. “I finally have the time to _look_ at you, now. I’ve never seen a naked man before.”

“Oh,” he squeaked, the room suddenly too warm.

“I like your feet, they’re huge but soft at the same time.” She tugged at the hem of his pants. “And your legs are less hairy than mine. Let me see them!”

“Rey, I don’t have any underwe–”

Rey smiled wickedly, pulling on his pajamas again. Ben managed to grab the elastic waist in time, stopping her from embarrassing him further. She crawled over him then, mercifully avoiding his very prominent erection, and straddled his waist.

“Rey, I–”

She kissed him on the lips, uncaring about hard-ons and morning breath, and Ben yielded to her assault, opening his mouth, immediately finding her small, curious tongue sneaking inside, caressing his own. He still wasn’t used to the sensation of their mouths touching, of sharing the same breath–it gave him chills, and he hoped to avoid making a fool of himself in front of her. Her lips hovering over his mouth, she carded her fingers through his silky hair, lightly scratching his scalp with her nails.

“Is this good?” she asked, and he could only nod, as her fingers finally met his ears.

“Oh!” she squealed. “Your ears are huge!”

Ben’s dick deflated immediately at her words. He tried to cover his ears with his hands, but Rey swatted them away quickly, and, even worse, she moved his hair, fully exposing the glorious size of his auricles. He was helpless, pinned under her, definitely not ready to get his ears mocked again, after years, by _her_ nonetheless.

Rey caressed his lobes in a delicate, tender way that made Ben’s muscles and tendons become hard as stone: he was ready to be made fun of by his other half, now. And whatever she was going to say to him about his ears, he’d already forgiven her, because she was beautiful, and she surely had no idea how much certain comments could hurt.

“I love them,” she cooed, unexpectedly. “You just can’t help being big all around, can’t you?”

“W–what?” he squeaked.

“I like your ears,” she repeated, nuzzling his left one with the tip of her nose.

He released the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and turned in her direction. “Really?”

“Of course, why should I lie about that?”

“Because I’m not–” he said, waving his right hand in front of his face, “handsome, or graceful, or–”

“Shut up, pretty boy,” Rey whispered, peppering his nose with kisses. “Have you ever seen yourself? Don’t tell me you don’t know how beautiful you are, especially after having almost blinded me with your naked chest, that one time!”

Ben was almost speechless. “I was trying to intimidate you, Rey.”

“Well, that clearly didn’t work,” she answered, her hands already running under his shirt. “I only wanted more. Let me see you, take this off.”

He complied quickly, his dick slowly filling with blood again, but as soon as she splayed both hands over his pectorals, squishing the firm muscles, someone banged against the door, startling them.

“Kriff!”

“Rey, where did you put the lightsabers?” Ben asked hurriedly, trying to pull his pajama top on again.

“I’ve buried them.”

“What!” he shouted, his face aghast. “Where? Why?”

“I didn’t want that woman to see them!” she cried. “So I put them in the sand, but I can’t remember where!”

“We’ll look for them later. Take yours and be careful, please.”

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

Rey opened the door carefully, her lightsaber held steady between her back. In front of her was a man, an old man, covered by well worn rags. But the thing about him that captured Rey’s attention wasn’t his appearance, but his smell. It was the same stench that emanated from the animal she’d seen yesterday, the one accompanying the nosy, old, lady. Was this man connected to her somehow, or was he nothing but a simple farmer?

“Good afternoon,” he began, unprompted. “Are you Rey… Skywalker?”

Rey nodded at him, her eyes wide as saucers. She could hear Ben moving downstairs, probably looking for some makeshift weapon since she lost the sabers. But then she remembered that Ben didn’t need a weapon to be lethal, and she prayed that this man didn’t intend to hurt them, or Ben would kill him without hesitation.

“My wife, Patty, told me you just moved here,” the old man said. “We’re neighbors.”

Rey nodded again. He was the nosy lady’s husband, then.

“My name is Harold. Our home isn't as big as yours, but we keep eopies. Here you are,” he added, giving her a lump bundled in a yellowish rag. “You need to keep it in the rag, far from the sunlight.

“Uh,” Rey babbled. “Thank you, but I don’t have anything to give you in exchange, I’m sorry, I've only been here for a few hours. Eopies are those tall animals, right?”

“Where are you from? Harold asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rey tried to remember the name of a couple of towns on the planet. The first that came to her mind was “Mos Espa.”

Harold grunted. “You don’t have eopies there?”

Rey shrugged, not willing to invent more feeble excuses. Maybe if she could convince Harold that she was just a silly girl that didn’t know better, he would leave her alone.

“Well, that’s a settlement with many people, maybe they don’t have space for beasts,” the man said, shrugging as well. “I’m glad you’re from Tatooine, anyway. We would hate to live next to… What are they called… Immigrants.”

Rey laughed nervously.

“Where is your husband? Still at work?”

Rey paled. “Well, Mister Harold, thank you for this!” she exclaimed, agitating the lumpy rag. “I’m sorry but I need to go, now, see you around!”

She bolted the door before the man could answer, and went downstairs. Ben emerged from the kitchen, armed to the teeth with knives, a meat mallet, and a pan to fry bloddles, and she almost laughed in his face as well.

“Who was it? What did they want?”

“The nosy lady has a husband, apparently,” she droned. “He doesn’t seem to like people from abroad, I told him I’m from Mos Espa.”

“You don’t know shit about Mos Espa, Rey.”

“Do you?” she bit back. “Anyway, he gave me this.”

“This looks suspicious.” Ben took the bundle and set it in the middle of the table. “I’m going to uncover it at the count of three. Keep your lightsaber ready in case it attacks us.”

“It hasn’t moved so far, if there is an animal inside, it’s already dead.”

“One.... two… three!” Ben exclaimed, removing the rag.

A foul stench invaded the small kitchen, and both Ben and Rey covered their faces, gagging desperately at the overpowering smell: on the table was the most fetid wheel of eopie cheese, its blue, fluffy exterior emanating the most incredible odor Rey had ever had the displeasure to experience–and she prided herself to be a stench connoisseuse, after Jakku.

“It looks like the buried lightsabers might need a bit of company,” Ben said, once he stopped coughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously, on Nosy Neighbors:  
> Rey is horny.  
> Ben is coming to term with the fact that he’s horny as well, but also a gentleman.  
> Harold brings some cheese.

“He said to keep it in the rag!” Rey shouted, but her voice was muffled by the scarf she’d used to cover her face, so she had to repeat it a couple of times before Ben could understand what she was saying.

Meanwhile, Ben had retrieved some kind of pincers from a drawer, and he was currently trying to cover the cheese again, without getting too close to it. In any other situation, Rey would have appreciated how long his body was, and how elegant his muscles and tendons were, but now she was only worried about putting that wretched cheese–and its awful smell–away.

Somehow, the pincers worked the miracle, and Ben managed to wrap the rag around the cheese again. Rey uncovered her face. The stench was still present, but it was no longer overbearing, and soon Ben uncovered his face too. They’d defeated evil, again. A perfect, honed team, a single soul blessed by the Force and split in two bodies. The infinite power of the dyad, used to crush the evil cheese. She took the wretched bundle again, securing it in an empty cabinet.

“That was… something,” Ben said. “I almost feel like I need to shower again.”

Rey nodded. “We have enough water now. Feel free to take all the showers you want.”

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

Rey didn’t really feel the need to wash herself, so she decided to take a look around. The house wasn’t laden with knick-knacks like she imagined an actual lived-in house should be–even if the people living there ended their lives being burned to a crisp by the Empire–but there still were several cabinets and shelves that she and Ben had only dusted, without having the time to look at their content. She opened one in the living room, discovering that it was full of books–actual flimsi books, not holos. Perusing the titles, she found out that it was a small library dedicated to hydroponic culture–of course it was–and how to take care of plants in environments naturally lacking water.

“Crap,” she whined. “If only I had these on Jakku.” 

She began reading, losing herself in the notions reported in the manual, and losing track of time as well. Hydroponics didn’t sound difficult to do. They had a whole moisture farm at hand now, already set up with water and the right equipment, even if it was quite old–but was there anything new or modern on Tatooine? She only needed to provide fertilizer: her brain immediately traveled to Patty and Harold’s beasts, always ready to disseminate dung everywhere–maybe they could reach an agreement of sorts.

She opened a new book explaining the virtues of natural versus chemical fertilizers, when an unfamiliar throbbing began to rise between her legs, and she had to clench her thighs to quelch it, even if only for a few seconds. Her pussy was… pulsing. She was heavily aroused, all of a sudden, yet she wasn’t even thinking about Ben.

This was new for her. Used to living alone, Rey was well acquainted with her body, but before meeting Ben, she never really felt certain needs, unless she couldn’t sleep at night. Kylo Ren hadn’t awakened just the Force in Rey, and she had a lot of fun while thinking about him, especially after he showed up without a shirt on while she was on Ahch-To.

But she’s never literally creamed her panties while reading about baked clay pellets and mynoch guano to grow space lettuce. She was utterly, positively soaked, whilst minding her own business in some dead people’s living room. Her mind, naturally, ran to Ben. Where was he? Was he still in the shower? She skimmed their Bond, and somehow she found herself projected in the bathroom–this was the second time since Exegol that she’d succeeded in willingly reaching Ben through the Force. 

And there he was, lounging in the freshly scrubbed bathtub, cock in hand and eyes closed in bliss. Rey’s eyes bulged upon seeing how his hand, somehow, wasn’t dwarfing his erection at all, but her brain soon got distracted by how good he was making her feel–even if unknowingly. His strokes were slow and rhythmical, the palm of his hand lusciously caressing his whole length, the purple head of his dick disappearing into the tight fit of his fist–and Rey could feel everything, like she somehow had grown a dick overnight and Ben was touching it like it was his own.

A confusing situation for sure, but the pleasure he was bringing Rey was, in fact, mind-melting. She raised her hand, as he could see her from his position, ready to announce her presence, when the one braincell they were sharing got fried up by his own orgasm, transferred to her via Force bond. She covered her mouth with both hands as her poor pussy imploded over the power of his strokes, milking every single drop of cum from his cock, white ropes disappearing in the foamy water. Flashes exploded between Rey’s eyelids and she found herself writhing on the tattered sofa, alone again, her whole body wrecked by the aftershocks of an orgasm that wasn’t even hers.

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

Ben wasn’t sure why Rey had ran outside all of a sudden, muttering something akin to “We need new clothes!” when the house was already full of clothes. Teenager Luke’s wardrobe fit her well enough, and he had no problems wearing Uncle Owen’s, even if the pants were always a bit short on him. But that counted as a nice change from his usual constricting armor, and he felt lighter, and somehow free, even if he still was homebound at the moment, as he couldn’t afford the dangers of showing his face around.

He looked outside of the window at the interior courtyard, his thoughts lingering on how her absence was painful, as her Force signature became weaker and weaker with her getting further away from him.  Sighing, he closed the curtains, and started walking through the house to see if he could find something to do while he waited for her to come back. There was plenty that needed to be done: he put the linens Rey had stained with her caf the previous night in the washing machine, aired the mattress, and tried to bake a pie using flour, water and something that came out of a tin Rey had brought from Tosche–it didn’t stink, thankfully– while he waited for the machine to finish its cycle. 

Once Ben finished hanging out the laundry, he sat in the living room, waiting for Rey to return home, trying to not be too mopey because of her sudden absence. The house was filled with the smell of the freshly baked pie he’d prepared, and his stomach grumbled loudly. He looked out of the windows, at the courtyard he couldn’t even access in his state of fugitive ex Supreme Leader. All the collapsed sand prevented them from accessing the productive portion of the moisture farm, and that couldn’t work well for them, in the long run. They were a couple of healthy, young people–how young exactly Ben still wasn’t sure, he still needed to ask Rey about her birthday– and they needed to eat healthy stuff if they wanted to keep in shape. 

They couldn’t really do much while on Tatooine, apart from sleeping, eating, training and... having sex. Ben’s thoughts returned again on what happened while he was in the bathtub, and his cheeks flushed red. He felt guilty for masturbating, especially after Rey had expressed such an enthusiastic curiosity towards exploring his body… but he was a coward, and cowards always choose the easiest routes. He carded his fingers through his hair, and thought about how he could help Rey–instead of thinking about her luscious butt–to restore the courtyard, finally granting them access to the hydroponic nursery.

One of the first teachings he’d received from Luke was  _ “the Force is not about lifting rocks”, _ except, sometimes, it could be, and what was sand, if not a fuckton of very small rocks? Exhaling, he closed his eyes, concentrating on the slope of collapsed sand right outside of the window. A couple of beads of sweat later, he opened his eyes again: the entrance to the nursery was now accessible, after decades of abandonment. It was time to clean that part of the farm as well, but he had a problem: he needed to find a way to cross the courtyard without showing his face. Better safe than sorry, with those nosy neighbors: he took one of the white, flimsy curtains and draped it over his head.

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

“What do you see?” Patty asked, poking her husband in his flaccid tigh. “Let me take a look. I want to see, too.”

“Calm down for a second,” Harold seethed from his ladder. “There is no one out there, just sand swirling around, it looks like a small twister.”

Patty began tugging on his tunic until he huffed, and descended from the ladder, leaving the old imperial binoculars to her. She climbed on the ladder, but to no avail, since she was too short to reach the small window.

“I’m going outside!” she exclaimed.

“There is no one, I said,” Harold replied, preparing himself the umpteenth glass of blue milk. “You’re wasting your time.”

“Better than remaining here with you,” Patty muttered under her breath, stomping towards the door. 

She exited their small house with a cane and a length of rope in hand. Their eopies were napping peacefully in their barn, but she woke them up banging the cane on an old pan hanging from the nearest wall, scaring them.

“Come on, stupid beasts! Time for a walk.”

The suns were high in the sky: the animals didn’t really want to walk on the scorching hot sand, but Patty tied them up with her rope, and began walking briskly towards the late Lars’ farm, her poor eopies trampling behind her. She needed to see for herself what her useless husband had called a  _ small twister _ . Twisters were not uncommon on Tatooine, but they were fast, covering several miles in a handful of seconds, displacing dreadful quantities of sand that could bury whole houses and machinery. Such a thing as a  _ small twister _ was unheard of.

She finally reached her neighbor’s farm, right when the youngest animal began crying and whimpering for the fatigue. Everything seemed to be in order–a tad too much in order, actually. The interred courtyard was free from sand now, and many openings were now visible: Patty would never have guessed that the house was so big, with such a great number of doors and windows facing toward the vaporation system installed in the middle of the artificial depression.

“Sands, that house is huge,” she murmured, observing the many windows with interest, and a hint of greed.

Maybe that young squatter could have… some accident, and Harold and her would finally have the farm they deserved. But soon, something moved behind one of the windows, distracting her from her reverie. What Patty had previously thought to be a curtain slowly took the shape of a humanoid–a huge humanoid, at least six feet tall–and began moving, making her poor, old heart thump wildly in her ribcage. 

“A ghost?!?” she whispered, terrified, the color quickly leaving her cheeks.

One of the eopies belled in distress, unloading a particularly abundant dump, forcing Patty to loosen the rope when it began moving from its own muck, but when she turned her head again, she found the white ghost in the middle of the courtyard, looking at her–she felt its eyes on her even if it didn’t have a face, his ethereal body gently moving under the afternoon breeze. She shouted out in fright, her shrill voice echoing over the boiling sands, trying to put as much distance between her and the ghost as possible. Stumbling on her feet she collided against her animals, which started bellowing loudly, yanking the rope away from her dry hand and running towards their home, leaving her on the ground. 

Patty sputtered, her mouth full of sand, and her hands sunken in something way more soft, sticky and smelly.

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

Rey almost fell from her speeder when she found out that the slope of sand leading to the courtyard had completely disappeared. She hit the brakes quickly, praying that she wouldn’t end on the bottom of the depression, and luckily the speeder stopped right before its edge, next to what definitely looked–and smelled–like some fresh eopie manure.

“Ben!” she called, and he emerged from a door she’d never seen before, wearing… “Is that a curtain?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I wanted to make sure I could go outside without being seen, and I was right in my paranoia. That woman was here.”

“I can tell,” Rey laughed, waving a hand in front of her nose. “What did she want, this time?”

“I don’t know, but she was spying on the house. I scared her away.”

“Stay there, I have something for you,” Rey said, docking the speeder next to the main entrance. 

She unloaded her bags, almost jumping down the stairs to reach Ben–stars, how she’d missed him–but once in the kitchen, a delicious smell made her stop. There was something on the table, hidden under a plate. They said that curiosity killed the tooka, but she was no tooka: she was Rey from Nowhere, squealing upon discovering that under the plate there was a delicious looking pie.

Torn between her desire to kiss her braincell-mate senseless and her desire to devour the pie, she compromised, taking a huge bite from the crust and running to Ben. He was waiting for her with his arms open, in one of the hydroponic nurseries, his curtain all dusty and stained with soot.

“No!” she exclaimed, making him laugh as he peppered her lips with wet smooches. “No tongue, I’m chewing!”

“Someone found my pie!” he whispered, squeezing her tight against his pecs, patting her hair.

“You did a wonderful job on the courtyard. Did you find the lightsabers, perchance?”

Ben shook his head. “I couldn’t feel them. Maybe if you tried?”

“I’m afraid we’ll need to dig them out by hand, because I can’t feel them either.”

“We’ll find them, don’t worry. Come inside, I have just finished cleaning the nursery,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Rey, do you want to grow space lettuce with me?”

Tears were already pooling in Rey’s eyes. “I do, Ben Solo. But first I want to bring you to Anchorhead. A woman at Tosche told me that they have real shops there, and there are good taverns where we could eat something new. We need new clothes, I’m not going to wear pajamas forever… and I need more than two pair of panties.”

Ben’s face became sombre. “I can’t come with you. Maybe in a few months.”

“You will. I have something for you,” she said, opening one of her bags and extracting a welder mask. “You can wear this until we need to eat. If there is indeed a tavern, we can request a private table, or something similar.”

Ben kissed her, eyes closed and hands cradling her head. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	4. A famous actor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously, on Nosy Neighbors:  
> Patty saw a ghost!  
> Rey brought Ben a new mask.   
> They both desperately need new underwear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patty and Harold would be MAGA supporters, today.  
> Please remember that they're racist and homophobes, and the author doesn't share their stupid beliefs.

The following morning Ben was the first one to wake up, Rey’s warm and angular body was a welcome weight on his chest–even the drool flowing from the corner of her mouth was more than welcome. He caressed her freckled skin with his knuckles, waking her up even if this wasn’t his intention, but her smile–directed at him!– was so bright that he readily forgave himself for having interrupted her sleep.

Without speaking she sat up, displacing his arms, and resumed the exploration Harold had rudely interrupted during the previous day, nimble fingers unbuttoning the oversized shirt he was wearing to bed. Ben exhaled, rolling on his back–resistance was futile with Rey–and she finally began to explore the pale expanse of his chest.

“Wow,” she whispered, slowly caressing his now unblemished skin, full of freckles and moles.

Ben could feel his ears become purple, and his dick quickly fill with blood: making himself vulnerable in front of Rey shouldn’t have excited him so much, yet it did. He moved a cushion over his face, to hide his blossoming blush.

“What are you doing?” Rey squealed, grabbing the poor cushion and flinging it on the floor. “Let me see you!”

She trapped his head between her elbows, and began kissing him everywhere, from his scorching hot lobes to the broken bridge of his long nose, making him squirm under her attack. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love your nose?”

“No,” he squeaked, while she tried to eat him alive, her lips against his mouth again, licking, and biting, and filling the holes in his heart.

“Today is the day,” she whispered against his lips. “I’m going to see you naked, and touch your body, and if anyone comes to disturb us–”

“I will kill them with my bare hands,” he answered, making her tumble on the mattress and quickly dispelling his shirt, embarrassment be damned. 

Rey was unstoppable, and there was no reason to stall, nor play coy. She returned to him, straddling his hips as he simply laid under her, eyes closed. Her hands began to wander over his skin for a second time, making him tremble. Feeling her touching him with such an honest amazement was almost enough to make him cry for the sheer gratitude he was feeling for her. He grew up thinking that he was deserving of nothing, and she was giving him  _ everything. _

“These are literal… meat cushions,” she whispered, squeezing his pectorals. “They’re perfect for sleeping.”

Ben jolted as she licked his left nipple, his blush now spreading all over his neck and his chest. The room was beginning to be too hot.

“Wha–oh,” he moaned.

“Good morning,” she laughed pinching both of his nipples until they hardened, and nibbling on his flushed skin, connecting all the moles on his chest with the tip of her tongue. “I love these, you’re so beautiful.”

Tears began to prickle at his eyes, but he kept them squeezed shut. If Rey had noticed he was crying, she’d decided to not comment on it, keeping her explorations up. She looked at his arms, following his veins towards his hands, kissing his knuckles, his fingers, nosing–to his uttermost embarrassment–under his armpits, and tickling his ribs. His cock was now leaking.

“Your tummy is so cute,” Rey cooed, before tipping her tongue in his navel, making him shiver. “It’s so soft, you’re soft everywhere, and so smooth.”

Ben didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say–no one had dared to call him soft, ever–so he just sniffed while Rey was caressing the almost translucent skin over his hip bones, her hands dangerously close to his groin. He didn’t object when she grabbed the elastic waist of his pajama pants–he helped her even, lifting his butt from the mattress–finally freeing his erection.

Rey didn’t move, nor speak for several seconds and he opened his eyes to check on her–to see if she was disgusted by how hard he was, or if she was simply unhappy with the shape, the look, or the smell of his dick. He soon discovered that she was looking at his foreskin with such fascination that he felt the need to close his eyes again, his whole body burning.

“Is it big?” she asked. “It is, right?”

“I don’t know, I never saw another dick, besides mine”.

“Neither have I, but it doesn’t look small,” she said, poking at his balls with her index finger. “These are strange, but cute. I imagined you hairier, somehow. I’m hairier than you.”

“Yo–you are hairier where?”

“My groin is a bit hairier than yours,” she answered, candidly. “You have a lot of skin there, can I touch it?”

“Rey, if it wasn’t clear before, everything you see it’s yours. Do what you want.”

She took his shaft in hand then, squeezing it lightly in her warm, warm palm, and Ben’s breath hitched. This was the first time someone–besides himself–had touched his dick, and he had to think about Snoke’s wrinkly chest peeking from his golden robe to avoid coming on the spot. 

“Is it okay if I move my hand? I only have a vague idea about how this works…”

Ben didn’t stop to linger on the fact that Rey was aware of male masturbation. “Jus–just move your hand up and down, slowly, squeezing delicately.”

Rey proceeded, exposing his purplish tip to the air, stroking his whole shaft until his foreskin closed around his glans again, and he had to cover his face with his hands while emitting the most embarrassing moan.

“That’s why you have so much skin!” she squealed, her enthusiasm guiding her explorations. “To make touching it easier! Does it feel good?”

“You have no idea,” he managed to say between pants. “I don’t think I’ll last for long.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It isn’t.”

“If you touched me, I would want to come right away, and then I would come again,” she stated.

At her words Ben, predictably, came. He arched his back on the mattress, loud flashes of light blinding him as his stupid dick was shooting cum all over his chest, his abdomen and Rey’s hand and chin. She moaned loudly, and kept jerking him off, as he writhed under her, desperate and filled with shame. He was an idiot. He had escaped death already, but maybe this was the right moment to disappear forever and become one with the Force. 

“I’m sorry,” he wailed, trying to fetch something to clean them up. “I’m disgusting, I’m so, so sorry.”

Rey was panting, and smiling at him like she was the one that just came, and not him. “It’s not–I mean, you’re not disgusting, this is natural.”

“I should have warned you,” he kept berating himself, but she took his breath away scooping up a droplet of cum from his chest with her finger, bringing it to her lips, and tasting his flavor.

“It’s tangy,” she laughed, a post-orgasmic aura surrounding her. “I didn’t know what to expect. My taste is sweeter.”

Ben’s head began to spin at the mental image of Rey tasting herself, and he tried to clean her face with Uncle Owen’s pajamas, but she stopped him, grabbing his wrist, and crashed their mouths together.

“Let me touch you,” he whispered, “let me pleasure you, please. You deserve everything.”

“I’m okay, really.” Rey smiled sweetly. “It’s late, let’s wash ourselves and hop on the speeder. We need new clothes, especially if we keep doing this.”

“Later, then,” Ben whined, kissing her hand, uncaring of the sticky droplets of cum on her fingers.

“Later. We have all the time in the Galaxy.”

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

“This is the last time you involve me in your shenanigans, woman!” Harold seethed, while knocking on the door of the late Lars’ farm. “A ghost, that’s unheard of!” 

“Lower your voice, what if they’re home?”

“What if they aren’t? You made me walk on the boiling sand, at this ungodly hour, for nothing!”

“You men have no spirit of initiative,” she exclaimed, extracting a metal crowbar from her backpack. “If they’re not home, we’ll invite ourselves, and you’ll talk to the ghost.”

Harold grunted. “What could I even say to a ghost?”

“I want you to tell it that this Rey Skywalker is bad news, and she doesn’t deserve this farm.”

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

Ben felt stupid walking in Anchorhead while wearing the welder mask. It wasn’t so different from the helmet he’d used for years, but he couldn’t help feeling stupid, now. The settlement wasn’t really big, but it was different from Tosche Station, and Rey was really excited at the idea of visiting shops that were located in proper buildings, and not casual vendors exposing their goods on dirty cloths on the ground. 

She kept hopping from window to window, smiling and calling him, and he followed her, happy not to have to think about anything, for once. After perusing a whole row of windows, they finally entered a shop where Rey insisted to “buy” several pairs of panties and socks, telling him, as she was mind-tricking the clerk, that “We’re not going to keep doing laundry daily.”

“I had no idea you could trick people so easily,” he commented, once outside. “Why didn’t you trick that old couple?”

“They did nothing wrong, they’re just nosy,” Rey answered, shrugging. “I want to activate the hydroponic nursery as soon as possible and sell our vegetables at Tosche or here, so I can repay the guy from the shop and what we’re going to buy later. These people did nothing wrong either.”

“We’ll do it tomorrow. Later, we can look for those clay pellets you mentioned, and fertilizer. I don’t really want to ask those snoopers for eopie dung. The woman was trying to look inside the windows yesterday.”

Rey took his hand. “Would you do something for me, before that?”

“Anything.”

“Let’s look for fancy clothes to wear, so we can have lunch in a good tavern, with that secluded table we were dreaming of. I want to see your face, and kiss you.”

Ben blushed behind his mask.

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

“Harold! Harold, come here!” Patty called.

“I should have thrown her in the Sarlacc pit after our wedding,” he grunted.

There was no ghost in the house, no presence, nothing. The rooms were generally clean, and they barely appeared lived-in, save for the laundry hanging to dry in the courtyard and some crumbs in the kitchen sink. Harold joined his wife in what looked like a bathroom. She was in the middle of the room, standing, her accusing finger pointing at the two toothbrushes on the sink.

“What? The girl washes her teeth.”

“There are two brushes, there is someone else here,” Patty stated. “Did she tell you if she’s married?”

“She didn’t, she just… went away without answering.”

“She did the same with me… Harold, what if she’s a lesbian?”

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

Rey laughed and clapped her hands when Ben came out of the dressing room. They’d found a shop that was a bit fancier than the others, right in the center of the town, and now they were playing dress up. Ben, to his uttermost humiliation, had been forced by Rey and the shop assistant to try several outfits, and now the two young women were admiring how the fabric clinged to Ben’s muscles. He’d shown a bit more enthusiasm once Rey had smiled at him, reassuring him through their Bond that the little show was making her  _ very _ happy. He hadn’t protested when she had insisted on a grey suit, and he’d decided to keep it on, asking the assistant to put his old clothes in a bag.

Rey had also chosen a dress for herself, a deep green one, even if she wasn’t used to wearing a gown, but it was stretchy, warm and comfortable, and it had  _ pockets. _ She could play for a day, try to be like other girls for once–non Force sensitive girls. She couldn’t see Ben’s expression, since he was still wearing his mask, but the assistant had assured her that she was beautiful, and she had tried to not listen to the small voice in her head that constantly told her that everyone was lying to her. 

After tricking the young woman as well, they finally reached the only fancy restaurant in town. There weren’t many people inside, and the few customers looked like they were deeply embroiled in seedy affairs, wearing expensive clothes that clashed eerily with their scars and tattoos. Ben’s scar would have been perfect for mingling in this venue, and Rey felt even more guilty for having erased it while transferring her vital Force–or whatever was it called– to heal him.

“Madam? Sir?” a waiter called them. “Welcome, what can I do for you?”

Rey turned in his direction. “You will give us a private table.”

“I’m sorry? Do you have a reservation?”

Rey looked at Ben, lost. This guy was Force-sensitive.

“Leave this to me,” Ben whispered, waving his fingers. “Good morning, we have reserved a private table, the name is Starkiller.”

The young man checked on a datapad, and shook his head. “I can’t see your name, and we have only a private table at the moment, but it’s already reserved.”

Ben looked at Rey, and she shrugged.

“My mistake,” he said then, touching his chest. “I’ve evidently contacted the wrong establishment. If you gave us that table you would do us a huge favor. I can’t show my face in public.”

“I’m really sorry, Sir. The table is already taken and I don’t know who you are.”

“He’s a–a famous holo-star!” Rey interrupted. “We can’t eat amongst other people, or everyone would ask for an autograph, disturbing us.”

“She’s right,” Ben added. “I’m… Matt Starkiller. I’m a famous actor.”

“Never heard of you, I’m really sorry. You’re more than welcome to return tomorrow, if you want.”

“Matt, show him your face,” Rey prodded him. “He’s worked with many directors, and now he’s going to star in that new holo about the rise and the fall of the First Order. He’s going to play our late Supreme Leader.”

Ben removed the mask, and the waiter’s mouth almost touched the floor.

“Son of a bantha!” he exclaimed. “You really look like Kylo Ren!”

Ben lowered his gaze. “Now you can see why we need that table.”

“Of course, follow me, that table will be yours. What can I do to make amends?”

…-oo0O696969O0ooo-...

“Harold!” Patty shouted again, waking him up. 

He’d fallen asleep on a chair, while waiting for his wife to turn the house inside out, looking for the slightest proof of lesbianism, or ghosts, or whatever she was looking for. He wasn’t sure being a lesbian was still illegal on Tatooine, and they didn’t want to bother the First Order for such a trivial thing. If the girl were a junkie, however, they could easily bring her to justice, since the use of drugs was heavily regulated after Jabba the Hutt’s demise.

Harold followed his wife’s voice: she was in the master bedroom, crouched in a corner, on the floor.

“Well? Have you found some proof?” he asked her.

“One of these tiles here is loose. Help me remove it.”

Harold inserted the crowbar in the crack between the tile and the floor, lifting it. Inside, there was a metal box.

“Open it, Harold! It looks like it’s full of drugs!”

Harold opened it, and it was full of flimsy pictures that promptly fell on the ground.

“These are… Oh, Maker!” Patty shouted. “It’s pornography!”

Harold grunted, collecting the nearest picture. It depicted a pasty, rather chubby guy with dark hair and his blonde partner, a curvaceous young woman–the Lars. His erect member was in her face, and his testicles were… in her mouth. Harold’s dick twitched in his baggy pants, after decades of flatlining, but died as soon as he remembered with whom he’d been married for a good portion of his life.

“You never did this to me, Patty.”


End file.
